


Mistletoe Mayhem

by LiteralCaskOfAmontillado



Series: Christmas Crises [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Christmas, Magic Shenaningans, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralCaskOfAmontillado/pseuds/LiteralCaskOfAmontillado
Summary: Oh ho, the mistletoe, hung where youcan'tsee. Somebody waits for you, kiss Heresy once for me
Relationships: Heresy Silvertongue/Everyone
Series: Christmas Crises [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018489
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Oh Ho, The Mistletoe

“Is this truly necessary?” Crucible asked from the ground.

Heresy looked down only briefly from her position on the ladder. She was a bit tied up with tying a fresh bundle of mistletoe to the eve of the war room’s doorway, so at first her only response was a shrug. When she was finally satisfied that the whole thing wouldn’t come tumbling to the floor, she carefully descended her ladder.

“Of course it’s necessary. We’re having a Christmas party next week! What’s a Christmas party without some mistletoe?” Heresy asked innocently, taking Crucible’s hands in her own once she was securely on the floor.

“I don’t know, a party with minimal potential for an awkward moment?” he smiled, pulling his hands free so he could put his arms around Heresy’s waist, “but for all couples? Not so bad, I don’t think”

“Yes, that’s exactly who I was thinking of, too… When I put the mistletoe in the main entry way of my bunker” Heresy lied, though Crucible didn’t seem to notice.

The couple stood close together, Heresy looking up to admire her handiwork, and Crucible watching her intently. Once their faces neared one another however, heavy footsteps down the hallway caused them to pull away abruptly. In their line of work, it was instinctive to tense up when mysterious footsteps came thumping about.

“Outta my way, Victor!” Sarcophaga screeched as she body slammed her guardian to the floor.

He grunted when he fell, swearing in Serbian on the way down, and Heresy yelped in surprise as Sarcophaga smashed their faces together. Part of it was from the sticky-sweet coppery scent invading her sinuses, but the other was from the writhing tongue mapping out the crevices of her teeth and briefly gagging her.

One might have considered this a very haphazard and chaotic kiss beneath fresh mistletoe. And for the most part, Heresy didn’t mind the witch’s unusual interruption, except for the fact that it had smeared blood of unknown origin from Sarcophaga’s face onto her own.

“Exceptional,” the witch rasped, placing another bloody peck on Heresy’s cheek.

As quickly as she had arrived, Sarcophaga scurried away. Presumably it was to her cave even further below ground than the bunker already was. Heresy, once-enthusiastic, sighed, wiping at the mark with the back of her hand. She cautiously sniffed it to be sure, though her well trained nose from years of crime scenes didn’t need to be so closely acquainted. 

“Do I still get a kiss?” Crucible asked while he rose from the floor. Heresy stared down at her boyfriend, knowing that the facetious comment was an attempt to make her feel better.

“I think I should wash my face first”


	2. Somebody Waits For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crucible gets acquainted with the adverse effects of necrosis gone wrong for the holidays

Victor Crucible was expecting packages. Packages so very big that he insisted on receiving them at the garage entrance of the Foggy Dew’s bunker. It had a tendency to slam shut and lock itself on windy days, but today was not one of them. This entrance conveniently did not have a surprise mistletoe ambush waiting nearby, which was ever so fortunate, given that the person who’d offered to help him was none other than Doctor Orson Thumb.

Orson, a talented user of experimental and theoretical necromancy, was very kind. However, after an incident many years ago with a necrotic tissue sample, he now lacked the pliable flesh structures of the face such as eyelids and nostrils. He also had no lips. Watching him talk was both terrifying and fascinating, yet the idea of kissing him was altogether revolting.

Crucible didn’t mind his endless chatter, for Orson’s excessive need to hear his own voice working made up for how little he himself spoke. The necromancer was all too aware that people zoned out when he went on his educational tirades, but was perfectly alright with their silence.

In the midst of collecting their packages and partially listening to Orson ramble, Crucible distinctly heard a door close nearby. He turned quickly and cried out in shock- the safest entrance possible had closed behind them. And there was not a hint of a breeze to be felt.

“Is something the matter?” Orson asked, pausing his tangent to inquire thoughtfully about Crucible’s distress.

Growing up in a segregated neighbourhood of immortals in Beograd, Crucible had seen enough horrors for a regular mortal’s lifetime. He’d seen car bombs detonate, decapitated heads of henchmen delivered right to his Deda’s front door, and enough cocaine to kill a rhinoceros on sight. Yet nothing disgusted him like the idea of kissing Orson.

“No,” he sighed while running a hand through his fine blonde hair, “we’ll just walk around and use the front door instead.”

“Ah well, okay. As I was saying, by partaking in these near death rituals, a necromancer would surely gain a better understanding of the sheer energy involved for a soul to completely return from their afterlife without they themselves dying,” Orson continued, dutifully holding several packages.

Crucible couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the detailed lesson on harnessing the energy of the dead. His mind was awhirl with plans as the front door opened for them on sight. Down the dark stairway they descended, Crucible thinking of an escape route and Orson recounting the necessary steps toward successfully not dying during such a precarious experiment.

“Orson, walk ahead of me,” Crucible grumbled as his stride slowed considerably at the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh no! We’d just fallen into a synchronised step. I was quite enjoying it,” the necromancer smiled, as best he could without lips or eyelids or much more than the bare minimum of functional facial muscles. 

“Orson, just walk ahead of me. Keep walking and I’ll meet you in your lab to grab the packages. Okay?” Crucible pleaded, unnoticeably glancing at the ever present bundle of mistletoe just down the hallway. 

Orson Thumb shrugged, readjusted the packages in his arms and walked ahead of Crucible, as asked of him. And Crucible would have gotten away with his escape, if not for another member of the mercenary crew.

“Victor Crucible, you are a cheater,” it was Zsiska, standing somewhere down the main hallway and shouting at him, “get your ass down here and kiss this darling lipless man or I’m telling Heresy”

Crucible trudged forward, walking under the arched beam to stand beside Orson. The older man was confused at best, seemingly oblivious to the decorative trap hanging above them.

“Kiss me? You aren’t exactly my type, Victor. What is all this nonsense about?” 

“Orson, you have face only mother could love. And Helena, of course” Orson nodded in agreement, noting that his quirky wife was a lucky woman to have someone as dashing as he, “That is about it. I’m doing this only for the sake of tradition. I do not want to upset Heresy, either. Zsiska’s threats are very real”

He swore he could hear her muttering about how right he was, but elected not to engage with the precocious younger sorceress.

“Oh, I see. The mistletoe, is it? Such a unifying prank,” he mused, then shrugged, “you know, Helena just kisses me on the nose. Kissing teeth, even when they are still in a living body, feels so very necrophilic”

“That’s cheating too!” Zsiska shouted as she finally came into view. 

“Is this some sort of sick fantasy? Why do you want me to kiss Doctor Thumb so badly?” Crucible asked with a sneer, and Zsiska cackled.

“Because I like watching you squirm, Serb” she leered back, “now kiss, asshole”

Crucible sighed, and beckoned for Orson to come closer. His stomach turned as Orson watched him. Even though Orson had no open wounds on his face, Crucible could only think of the ragged scars around the edges of his mouth, and the way his eyes looked like they might pop out of his head at any sudden movement.

“For heaven’s sake, boy,” Orson huffed, as he rolled his eyes, leaned forward and rubbed his nose against Crucible’s.

Zsiska gasped, stammering something about cheating and rules being broken. Granted, giving Orson’s lack of lips, it was a non traditional kiss. But it was a kiss, nonetheless.

“Have you successfully watched him squirm enough?” Orson asked with an unusual edge on his voice.

Zsiska nodded quickly and nervously. Neither she or Crucible had ever heard him speak in such a way. 

“Excellent, I’m thoroughly pleased to have satisfied you, Miss Danger. Victor, I believe we were headed to my lab to unpack these?” Orson gestured to the man who’s packages he still held.

For what it was worth to remind himself as he eagerly walked with Orson away from Zsis, Crucible was proud that he had almost kissed Orson himself. Right on the nose, as Mrs Thumb apparently did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right class, raise your hand if you'd take a bullet for Orson Thumb.
> 
> Also, had too much fun using random little Serbian words. Hopefully they weren't too distracting!


	3. More Rapid Than Eagles His Retribution Did Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crucible almost ruins the mistletoe for everyone. Almost.

Thankfully for the Foggy Dew, this particular Christmas Eve happened to be a very calm day. Perimeter checks were nothing more than a leisurely but diligent stroll through the nearby woods to make sure that the bunker’s protective sigilwork was still functional. This step was only ever precautionary- it would take more than a few animal tracks to fully disarm the home of the mercs.

For Zsiska and Heresy, it was mostly a time to gossip. The topic changed often, but it made the rounds pass a little bit more quickly.

“So I said to him, you don’t know the first thing about ‘painful’! Want to know what’s painful? A period that lasts almost a month and a half after 200 years of not having a single one,” Zsiska put her thumb to her fingers and shook her hand for emphasis, “and then he says to me ‘what do you mean you haven’t had a period in 200 years? What kind of sicko are you?’ Meh. And then my stupid ass remembered that I went snagging for mortals. Ended up blasting his memory and leaving without my fucking knickers. All because the dummy wouldn’t wear a rubber”

Heresy grimaced at Zsiska’s retelling of the events of her last night out as she lifted up an inconspicuous yet massive stone. Beneath it was a carved sigil of protection, all sorts of interlocking loops and whorls that faintly hummed of energy.

“You’re far braver than I to try sleeping with mortals. I’d feel so guilty if I said something and had to wipe their memory,” She said with her head down, running her fingers over the massive rune cut into the boulder.

“I don’t really care much anymore. I usually never get far enough into a conversation with them for it to let slip. It was just that one guy I went off on,” Zsiska looked down at the stone alongside her boss, “that’s the last one. We all good?”

“I think that about does it, yup,” she nodded, letting the massive stone fall back into place, “now lets go grab cocoa and get our christmas on!”

By the time they made it down the bunker’s staircase, Heresy noticed a distinct change in Zsiska’s behaviour. She’d _just_ been confidently retelling her sexcapades, but now her whole energy was out of alignment and Heresy could feel it shying away from her own massive sunburst-esque aura.

“Zsis, you feeling okay?” she asked as they walked towards the war room, only to notice that Zsiska had slowed down to a measly shuffle on the polished floors.

“Yeah I’m good! Great! Fabulous!” Zsiska stammered with obvious distress, “I’m going to go _this_ way and meet up with you later. Great rounds with you tonight! See you later!”

The commander stared at Zsis as she eagerly shuffled away, fumbling on something to say. She didn’t understand- not immediately anyways. They’d used rounds as their girltime, a brief break from the usual serious missions.

“Kiss my girlfriend, Zsiska. Don’t be chicken,” Crucible teased with his arms crossed as he leaned on a wall nearby- but far enough away to be out of mistletoe bounds.

Zsiska turned around abruptly, eyes wide. Heresy looked between her boyfriend and her merc, curls whipping back and forth.

“Is something going on here?” Heresy asked, pointing back and forth between Crucible and Zsiska.

“No!” Zsiska shouted, while Crucible just shook his head and innocently held up his hands, “I mean, no. I just… I have to go help Sindri put the finishing touches on their project. Yeah, that’s all!”

Heresy was about to respond, but whipped her head around towards Crucible again, who had interrupted with a dry laugh. He pushed his platinum blonde hair from his eyes and strode forward confidently, arms crossed.

“Sindri finished last night and wouldn’t need your help anyways. Now kiss my girlfriend, Zsiska,” Crucible grinned, which made Heresy sigh with embarrassed frustration.

“Zsis, if you don’t want to kiss under the mistletoe it’s fine. We can hug!” Heresy began to explain but Zsiska closed the space between them faster than she could bring herself to speak.

“No, I’m not a quitter, or a cheater. Hugging is cheating,” Zsiska snarled, which truly didn’t put Heresy in the kissing mood. 

“If you insist, but we _really_ don’t- mmph!” Heresy felt her teeth click together with Zsiska’s as the younger immortal grabbed her by the collar of her flannel jacket and mashed their lips together.

Zsiska shoved her back harder than she meant, and Heresy could feel the pure angry energy roiling off of her friend. There wasn’t much she could say before Zsiska was storming away into the war room, and by extension the rest of the bunker, and muttering something about going to wrap presents.

“I see now the comedic effect of mistletoe. I think it’s perfect here,” Crucible beamed with pride.

“I’m not so sure that I do,” Heresy replied as she straightened the collar of her jacket, and wiped Zsiska’s lipstick from her mouth, examining the smudge on her fingertips.

“At least you have lips to kiss,” Crucible pointed out, “I _could_ have made her kiss Orson, too”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys ever compensate around the person you had a crush on by bragging about all the "experience" you had? And then you got put on the spot and it backfired horrifically, or was that just me?


	4. Silver and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone besides Sarcophaga is excited for the mistletoe along with Heresy.

Heresy was perhaps a bit too involved with the holiday season. Her family, both the Silvertongues and the Foggy Dew, had never understood her festive obsession. It transcended just a few decorations and a lit tree hundreds of years ago, evolving to be an entire holiday wonderland confined within the magical bunker she called home these days.

It surprised no one that she commissioned a new holiday project by Sid Sindri. Every year since coming to work for Heresy, they’d happily accepted their leader’s Christmas request. This year’s request had been no less extravagant- a massive reindeer made from whatever materials Sindri could work with, preferably with some sort of locomotion capabilities.

“Oh Sin, this is so beautiful,” Heresy came around the side of the broad, copper reindeer statue, with thick pronged antlers ending in dipped tips of silver and gold. 

“ _With a word she can get what she came for _,” Sindri’s speaker squawked out, and they smiled, then nodded with sincere pride.__

__“This is more than I could have asked for, thank you,” Heresy breathed in relief, running a hand down the leg of the statue while it’s head lowered to the touch._ _

__“ _It’s just a spring clean for the May queen_ ,” Sindri’s speaker replied, and they shrugged, balancing their weight from one foot to another._ _

__“You’re much too modest, he’s beautiful. Thank you Sindri,” Herey made a mock curtsey and Sindri returned the gesture._ _

__“ _Should we move him now_?” Sindri signed quickly, to which Heresy shook her head._ _

__“Keep him in the shop for now, we’ll bring him out when we set up later,” she replied, reaching out to pet the nose of her new statue, “how about some more celebratory cocoa in the meantime?”_ _

__Sindri nodded eagerly, their tiny face split with a warm smile. The idea of sharing a cup with their friend before they kicked it into gear for the holiday party sounded wonderful to them, and they quickly fell into a good pace with Heresy’s long strides._ _

__As they neared the arched rafters adorned with the infamous bundle of mistletoe, Heresy’s stopped and allowed Sindri to continue forward. They stopped just beneath the mistletoe, where they closed their eyes and puckered their thin lips. But no kiss came. When Sindri turned around wearing a look of confusion, Heresy purposefully avoided their eyes._ _

__“ _Dear lady_ -?” squawked the speaker, purposefully cutting off the lyrics._ _

__“I mean, I assume you heard about Zsiska getting upset this morning. I didn’t want to force you into anything,” to which Sindri made a sound of deep contemplation._ _

__“ _Then the piper will lead us to reason_ ,” Sindri shrugged. Essentially, they were saying Zsiska’s complicated feelings weren’t something Heresy should be worried about. It was also a way for Sindri to not expose the crush that Zsiska had confessed to having on their leader._ _

__“I suppose I can just kiss you on the top of the head, anyways” Heresy agreed with an unsure sigh._ _

__“Uh uh,” Sindri rapidly tapped their lips, and tilted their head ever so slightly upwards._ _

__Sindri stood on their tippy toes- it still wasn’t enough to come close to Heresy’s face, but she still appreciated Sindri’s attempt. She bent over at the waist, softly kissed Sindri, which made the protomancer giggle and bashfully turn away. Heresy chuckled at their reaction, and took a knee to quickly squeeze her tiny technician._ _

__“You’re so very wise, aren’t you, my tiny friend?” she asked after letting go, to which Sindri shrugged, cheeks flush from the compliment, “you know what to do to get exactly what you want”_ _

__“I try,” they murmured, shifting from side to side, which only made Heresy squeeze them again, this time lifting them off the floor and swinging them back and forth through the air._ _

__Sindri giggled louder in her arms, hugging Heresy tightly before squirming away. Heresy and Sindri both laughed as they continued to walk through_ _

__“Cocoa?” they squeaked, looking up at Heresy with pining in their eyes._ _

__“Cocoa,” Heresy agreed with a nod._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know you're thinking "hey, is this just becoming an excuse for you to write Heresy getting kissed a lot?", to which I say- Mind your own business. Merry Christmas :)


	5. Guest List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Same shit every day," -Melachor, probably.

As with every party, the guest list is of utmost importance. Immortal parties were notorious for guest lists a mile long, and maybe if Heresy had taken a page out of the Silvertongue family book, hers might have been gigantic too. But she had her own playbook and was sticking to it.

Almost everyone on her list was of some significance to her and, hopefully, the rest of the Foggy Dew. It was a ride range of friends, because after all, the point of these parties was to celebrate even if just for a day. Good food and even better drinks would be in abundance today, allowing more than enough room for the chaos that would ensue beneath the mistletoe she’d so cleverly strung up.

Heresy was already nursing some sort of mixed drink in her office chair as Melachor went down the massive guest list. While Heresy had invited a lot of people, only a small handful had accepted the invite. Small wasn’t the best word- more than 50 people were expected to show up. The angel, despite what her demeanor said, was thrilled to pieces for tonight. Like Heresy, her favourite time of year was Christmas. It had more so to do with the absurd amount of sweets brought by guests than anything else, least of all the true spirit of Christmas.

“Your mother isn’t coming tonight? I find that hard to believe,” Melachor asked upon reading that the former captain had declined her invite.

“I would be too, but mum has a new ‘lady friend’ and they’re spending the holiday together,” Heresy wiggled her eyebrows up and down, and Melachor pretended not to notice. 

“Gross. And your brothers are not coming this year either?” Melachor asked, her pen hovering over the names of Heresy’s three aforementioned siblings.

“Heracles is still in prison, so no, because I’m not quite ready to try my hand at prison breaks,” Melachor leveled a hard stare, and Heresy acknowledged her with a sly wink, “meanwhile Ty and Auggie are somewhere in the Bahamas looking for… Well I don’t remember now. Something silly and pirate-y. Really very exciting stuff. They’ll probably have a party with their crew anyways”

“I see,” Melachor said as she rolled her eyes, “that leaves Bohannon Fierste and… twenty three Volunteers. ‘23 plus ones’ is what you wrote here”

“Yes I know! How exciting! We have…” Heresy counted on her fingers whilst balancing her drink glass, “8 members of the Foggy Dew, and 24 Volunteers. We’re being invaded! Ah!!!”

Melachor rolled her eyes again and Heresy laughed far harder than she should have. The sideways seat she had in her chair didn’t help her balance at all, and thus, the drink in her hands spilled out over her fingers and the woman quickly took to licking it off, then used the hem of her dark green sweater to wipe the rest off her desk. The angel didn’t bother to point out the napkins sitting right in front of her.

“I suppose,” Mel sighed, staring back down at the guest list, “that’s it then, we’re ready to party”

“Splendid!” Heresy cheered, raising her glass and sitting properly in her chair, “let's get our pregame going then!”

“You plan to pregame your own Christmas party?” and Heresy nodded enthusiastically in response, “of course you are. Not sure why I even asked.”

“You asked because you want to make sure there’s a drink prepared just for you,” Heresy pointed out as she stood and brushed stray droplets of liquid down her top.

Melachor couldn’t argue with that.

“That depends. You know I only like rum,” she replied stiffly as they left Heresy’s office and headed down the main corridor.

“What a coincidence! I happened to pick up a bottle exclusively for you at the store!” she beamed in response.

“Very thoughtful of you, Silvertongue,” Mel smiled for once, playfully nudging Heresy with her shoulder and a wing as they walked.

“D’y’know what else is thoughtful of me?” Melachor turned and raised her eyebrows, waiting to hear Heresy’s boast.

“Strategically placed mistletoe,” she grinned, before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Mel’s wings sprang open in shock, grazing the ceiling above them. Heresy laughed against her face, leaning hard on Mel’s chest, who grabbed her by the shoulders and straightened her up. If Melachor’s eyes weren’t so keen, she wouldn’t have noticed Heresy trying her best to pretend swaying around. Except Melachor’s eyes were _extremely_ keen, and she could practically see Heresy thinking about the movement way more than she needed to.

“Heresy, I _know_ you’re not drunk,” Melachor sighed, and Heresy threw her head back in a peal of laughter, “there’s barely any alcohol in that drink and it’s not any sort of meaningful spirit either.”

“Shhh,” she whispered, putting a finger to Mel’s lips, “let me have a little bit of fun before I have to be a good little hostess later!”

“Is kissing your resident angel fun for you?” Mel asked with a quizzical look on her face.

“Kissing anybody is fun,” Heresy shrugged, leaning away from her friend, then leaning quickly back in for another kiss.

She disentangled herself from Melachor’s arms, and took to reenacting the poorly thought out ruse again.

“Now let’s party it up, baybay!” she cackled, donning her best mix of her usual Cork accent and an absurd Valley Girl twang.

Melachor watched her spin off down the hall, cocking her head of dark ringlets to the side as Heresy disappeared into the war room and beyond. She settled her wings down, then pulled up her sleeve to check her watch. It was only noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch, wee! Something something, an excuse to write people kissing Heresy :)

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to post this last week, but had something really devastating happen instead. Here's hoping that this gets me back in the Christmas spirit. Cheers from your favourite cask of Amontillado


End file.
